Bittersweet
by northernscarlet
Summary: Post-Series. Jess and Rory bumped into each other in LA, one on a book tour and the other filling in for a fellow reporter. It had been two years since they last saw each other and it felt like no time has passed. However, history and intermediate years had made their reunion a little bit bittersweet.


_**Title:** Bittersweet_

_**Category:** Gilmore Girls_

_**Summary:** Post-Series. Jess and Rory bumped into each other in LA, one on a book tour and the other filling in for a fellow reporter. It had been two years since they last saw each other and it felt like no time has passed. However, history and intermediate years had made their reunion a little bit bittersweet._

_**Pairing:** RxJ_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing._

_**Author's Note:** I've never been to the bookstore mentioned in this chapter, so I'm sorry if I get the geography of the store all wrong. I'm going off based on what I can find on the internet. Same with my description of LA. The internet is a powerful thing, but it could only do so much. This is un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine. I'm sure there are some here, if not many. I'm just trying to improve myself as a writer as well as seeing how far I can stretch my imagination. Also, I'm not liking the second half of the chapter, but, since I want to end the year with something new, I've decided to post this story, something that has been sitting on my desktop for the past couple of months. I may polish it off when I get to the second chapter, so I'll make sure to inform you if I make any changes. Happy Holidays, everyone!_

xXxXx

**Chapter One: The 'Last' Encounter**

_September 2014_

Trying to find parking on a busy Tuesday afternoon in downtown LA was no joking matter. It took Jess thirty minutes weaving through traffic and working out which streets were two ways instead of one before he finally found a parking spot somewhat close to his chosen destination. It didn't help that some of the lanes or entire streets were blocked off due to construction. The locals must have the patience of a saint having to go through this every day of the week, three hundred sixty five days of a year. Five blocks may be pretty far for some, but he was a New Yorker, already predisposed to hate any city that was not the Big Apple. Walking five blocks? Please. The place he wanted to see? Worth every second he spent in traffic.

Los Angeles may be known for a plethora of things: Hollywood, the Lakers, congestion, its sunny disposition. But he cared not for them. What he wanted to see while he was in the city is to visit this place he just stepped into, the Last Bookstore. Used and new books, collectables, and vinyls, this place just screamed "book lover." He heard somewhere that the space used to be a 19th century bank, but he was not sure if there was validity to the story or not. Nonetheless, whoever built this place even incorporate books into the design of this store, from the register desk to the the famous books arch. There were even a place upstairs for local artists to show off their work. They had open mic night every first Mondays and occasional authors showing off their work, trying to connect with their readers and have a feel with the public at large. This was what he wanted Truncheon to be about. Well, it was not "wanting" anymore. Truncheon Books was this now, though a little less artsy on the architectural design front.

Jess was thirty years old now, acquiring and becoming what Luke called, "a mature and responsible adult contributing to society." Well, Jess did not like that statement. Not at all. But there was some legitimacy to Luke's acknowledgement. Jess had written four novels and he was on a (tiny, but not really tiny) book tour for his fifth. Though each novel weren't exactly a runaway best-seller, he had been getting recognition with each additional work published. He sweat blood and tears in writing out his thoughts hoping to gain some traction with the dwindling reading public and it finally paid off. (Somewhat.) At least he wasn't starving. Truncheon, while not exactly a money-maker, had enough of a draw to house two additional staff members beside himself, Chris and Matthew, and there was talk about opening a second location. (Though highly unlikely.)

(Maybe. Cross those fingers.)

This was not the life Jess was expected to live when he thought of his future at seventeen years old, but this was a fulfilling life that he worked so hard for. Jess made a name for himself without the help of others and lived his life without much regrets. (Okay, there were a few regrets, but like hell would he let them hold him back.) He just needed to believe in himself, like how a certain someone did many moons ago.

It just took him awhile to catch up to her.

xXxXx

Rory tied her hair up in a ponytail, trying to escape the heat and sweat as the sun shined brightly and evilly down on this fine September day. Well, this is Los Angeles for you. Hot and sweaty in the summer months, even if the season was about to end in a week or two. The movies did not lie on that front.

She used the newspaper she was holding to fan herself as she waited for the lights to turn green. She had the brilliant idea of walking around downtown LA instead of being cooped up in her hotel room. What not so brilliant, however, was her negligence on packing sensible shoes. Her mother warned her about this. In fact, if Rory recalled, Lorelai Gilmore made a proclamation about selling her soul to the Devil before selling her soul to the makers of Crocs, and if her daughter were to buy a pair from the brand that she considered below Satan, than she may not be her daughter after all. However, if given a choice between having her feet fall off or bathe them in sensible soles, then give in to temptation.

Other than the shoes front, Rory was enjoying her stay in LA. Using public transportation, buses and subways included, she was able to sight-see some of the more well-known parts of the city. She walked through _Urban Light_, an art piece in front of LACMA. The two hundred or so 1920-30s style street lamps created an euphoric atmosphere, the lights coming on as soon as dust hit, inspiring her to swing around one lamppost as she tried to recreate the Gene Kelly's scene from _Singin' in the Rain_, bad singing included_._

Rory visited the Huntington Library in San Marino, having to take the Gold Line from Union Station. It was her first introduction to the light rail system here in LA, even though she questioned the logic behind it in this earthquake prone state. On the other hand, if she had rented a car, it would have taken a lot less time getting there than the fifty minutes she spent on the rail, traveling more miles to get there using the train than the direct twelve from Union Station by car. Nevertheless, the scenic route was something to look at. There was a stop at Chinatown; its aesthetic clearly influenced by the location, the green tiled roof covering the station reminiscent of the golden roofs seen in the Forbidden City.

Once she got to the Huntington Library, what surprised her the most were not the paintings and artworks littering the walls of the museum, but the variety of gardens they had on the premises: Rose Garden, Shakespeare Garden, and Lily Ponds, to name a few. She could have spent days there, walking around and taking everything in. This was a great place to sit down and prop open a book, though she was sure that it would've been looked down upon.

Rory wasn't planning on staying in LA long. She was actually on assignment for an online news website, following a potential presidential candidate for the 2016 election. Well, technically, she was covering for someone. She wasn't put on this candidate for the long-run, just this stop. Her co-worker who originally had this assignment had a family emergency, but was due back for the candidate's next stop. So, given that there wasn't that much responsibility in covering the event, a small get together with donors, Rory decided to come in a few days early to explore the city. It also helped that she made extensive notes on both the candidate and his donors before she made the flight over here. Hey, it may not be her assignment, technically, but it didn't mean she shouldn't do a good job. Being thorough was just her nature.

Rory had been traveling the world, having been to England and Japan as well as numerous other countries. She was in the Middle East for awhile during Arab Spring, covering the revolutionary change and violence from the inside, but she was back. She wanted to explore her own country that she grew up in, figuring out the variety of people living here. Since Yale, she worked with a few start-up online news publication as well as the usual big names, such as the New York Times and the Los Angeles Times, but nothing really stuck. Her name was somewhat big enough to get freelance work here and there when she wasn't on assignment from the job she had now, but things were a lot slower than before, which was fine. She needed time to herself to figure some things out, trying to make sense of her place in this crazy world.

The lights finally turned green and she gladly walked away from the blazing sun to the shade the other side of the street provided. She was checking her phone when she noticed that she was currently standing next to a painted window with yellow scripted words. Noticing that it was a bookstore, she decided to get away from the heat and walk inside.

xXxXx

Rory didn't know what she walked into, but she was glad that she took the opportunity to step into store, feeling a bit like Alice on her first visit to Wonderland. True to its name, the place was littered with books of all sizes: on display, on sale, and as art. Heck, the register where you buy the books had literal books plastered on its side, following the curvature of the table and filling the spaces between the floor and the tabletop, the multitude of colored spines greeting her home.

The air in the store was crisped and cool, giving her respite from the heat she endured outside. There were leathered armchairs next to various bookshelves and a staircase leading up to the second floor. Even with the high ceiling, Rory felt cozy and warm, the musty smell of well-worn books embracing her and holding her tight. On one side of the ceiling and above the windows facing the streets outside, she could see another innovative use of incorporating books to the design of the store, paperbacks stitched together to create a wave from one side of the store to the other, starting together before it becomes two separate entities.

She wanted to get lost in here and never find her way out: the artwork, the collections, the people she might encounter here. It was taking a step into a dream, clouds and angels singing a must.

But, first, there was a certain person over by the makeshift stage that she needed to talk to first.

Rory silently walked up to the man dressed in simple black t-shirt and jeans and tapped on his shoulder. "Hey, you," she said, a smile creeping up on her face as Jess turned around and saw her standing there, a surprise look on his face, though you can't see it unless you know where to look. (It was in his eyes, the way it widen slightly and his pupils got a bit darker than anyone thought possible.)

"Rory, fancy you being here. In a bookstore. A strange concept, I'm sure," replied Jess, his voice a little less raspy than she remembered last. He had stopped smoking a few years ago, and it showed. She remembered distinctly teasing him about his changing voice and how he should petitioned to be the next Steven Tyler, back when it seemed like he was smoking a pack a day. He playfully took offense, since he was more of a Clash fan than a Rolling Stones fan.

"I never thought I would hear you say those words. What did they do to you? 'Fancy you being here.' That's something my grandmother would say. Are you actually hanging around those not wearing a leather jacket? Been hanging around respectable men?" teased Rory. She took off her hair tie, letting her long brown hair fall over her shoulders. She began to smoothed it out with her fingers as she waited for Jess to respond. Her skin was starting to get a bit chilled due to the air conditioning on full blast.

"Why? You want me to say 'greetings and salutations'? I think I'm passed imitating JD, not to mention that it would be creepy at this age since I'm thirty. I want to age gracefully, and not be Christian Slater 2.0," replied Jess. He began to evaluated the person before him, noticing the subtle differences since the last time he saw her in what seemed like a long time ago. Rory looked leaner and wore minimal make-up than the less time he saw her. Her eyes were still the same ocean blue, forever mystifying him as it changed shades depending on her mood as well as the day of the week. To his great surprise, she hadn't really changed.

Well, shit.

"It's just that every time I see you, I'm amazed on how much you changed since high school," said Rory. Don't tell anyone this, but Rory sometimes missed the leather jacket he sported around everywhere back in high school and it was not because of some cliché. She was so more than Sandy Olsson falling for Danny Zuko. But he was still the same old Jess, overuse of hair gel included.

"Well, I have changed and grown and, well, changed," said Jess, laughing. It never failed to amaze him how easily they fall into old routines, quips and inside jokes that never seemed to fade away. "It's been awhile this time, hasn't it?" He noticed how she nervously played with the ends of her hair, rubbing them between her thumb and index finger. It was habit she developed the last time he saw her. When he pointed it out to her, she confessed that she didn't realized what she was doing, though she thinks it was because she was getting use to making small talks again, her nerves still hadn't calmed down enough from her trip to MENA covering the Arab Spring. Jess remembered Lorelai trailing her daughter around, not wanting to let her go from her arms, metaphorically speaking of course. Luke just kept making burgers after burgers, believing that Rory was starved out of her wits in the Middle East, but was secretly proud of her and what she was doing.

"Two years? Luke has been keeping me up to date on what's happening in your life though, cause being Clementine to your Joel was a bit too much." Rory tugged the strands of her handbag back in place on her shoulder. She didn't realized that it had been this long since she last talked to Jess, since now there was no excuse to not keep in contact. After all, they were step-cousins. Who would've thought that one day they would be semi-related?

Jess smirked, his eyes twinkled a bit. "Too expensive to get a mind wipe? Same here, especially with what happened last time."

"Our last couple of meetings weren't that bad!" It really wasn't! Okay, well…there was an incident on the bridge one winter back in Stars Hollow, but it wasn't her fault! Really! She was struck with how bright and full the moon was that she might had accidentally edged Jess off the bridge into the semi-frozen lake below. Lorelai doubled over in laughter, Liz made sure to take pictures, and Luke tried to help Jess up from the freezing water, giving his nephew his jacket to to further his cause. Rory hid her face in her hands in shame. Michael, her boyfriend at the time, asked if that how she treated all her ex-boyfriends, though not in a joking manner, already adding to his mental list of things to complained about since they got to Stars Hollow. (Even the town made the list.) Let's just say their happily ever after didn't make it to spring, let alone Christmas.

"You spilled wine on my tux at Luke's and Lorelai's wedding and I distinctly remember one Thanksgiving in which you almost set me on fire and that wasn't even the highlight of the evening. You're not really making this whole ex- as friends thing civil." It never failed to embarrass her every time Jess brings up the wedding fiasco or the Thanksgiving from hell. He liked how her cheeks would color red and how she would bite her lower lip before making a retort.

"You can't blame me for the fire. I take after my mom. Julia Child will be forever grateful if I never set foot in a kitchen ever again," said Rory, providing an excuse for her lack of culinary skill. Her speciality was placing already made food into the microwave and hitting the start button.

"All rom com clichés, I'm sure. You're just hiding your deep everlasting love for me," said Jess in mock dramatics.

Rory smiled. Of course Jess would remember her love for silly romantic comedies, the good and the very bad, the only good kind worth sitting through, the mockery starting from the movie title onwards. "Well, then, we should get this meet cute thing over and done with. What are you doing here?"

Jess laughed, the sounds of his laughter seemed to engulfed her whole. Another thing that Rory missed. "Not exactly a 'meet cute,' but I'll give it to you. I'm here for work. You?"

"Same," replied Rory. "How is this not a meet cute scenario? I'm practically Sally meeting Harry in an actual bookstore! Or if you want a different Meg Ryan movie, you could be my Joe Fox. We can even go British. I'll be Anna Scott."

"That's not even a Meg Ryan movie!" argued Jess, shaking his head just a bit. He forgot how Rory make irrational, but playful, arguments to get him to see her point of view.

"Same difference," said Rory, shrugging her shoulders. Jess could see the playfulness in the blue of her eye, mimicking the sky-blue sky just right outside the door.

"Here's why this is not a 'meet cute' scene right out of the movies; we already had our little thing. This 'meet cute' only works if the romance card is still in play," justified Jess in his need to always be right, because, let's face it, he usually is.

"And you are so sure that the romance card is not in play?" retorted Rory, lightness tingeing her tone. She missed arguing with him, another thing to add to her mental list she was keeping in her head. She should really stop doing that.

"Cause every time we had a thing, you had a boyfriend on a leash," said Jess. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans, hooking one of his thumb through the belt loop.

"You make me sound so terrible! And that is totally not true." Jess could tell that he had not offended her, contracting the words she just said. Her eyes still seemed to shine and her smile would make anyone a bit happier just by seeing her.

"How about this," started Jess. "Every time you kissed me, you had a boyfriend. Dean. Logan. Dating?"

"Of course it would be like you to reference boyfriends I dated a decade ago," teased Rory. She gave a playful dramatic pause before clearing her throat and said, "Like Beyoncé said, they should've put a ring on it."

"Logan was hardly a decade ago and same with Dean, the second time around," countered Jess. He didn't know much about the years immediately after they broke up, choosing not to relive the heartbreak he was sure was there. Jess only knew bits, here and there, from Luke and, occasionally, from Lorelai. (Only when she was drunk and seeing him made her questioned her daughter choice of men, complaining how Rory might be like her after all. She feared that Rory may be living her life to the fullest, but she was not happy doing it. Something about men being pigs and her daughter was an angel sent down from heaven. He tended to leave and let Luke take care of her during her melodramatic Douglas Sirk inspired moments.) The only thing that Jess knew for certain, other than the parts he was directly involved and messed up with, was that Rory was searching for something, something even he didn't know. (Or did, going back to the earlier argument, Lorelai.)

"You're the one who chose the references, not me. I did date people since my college days, and you did meet one or two of them," said Rory. Technically, Rory was in three serious relationships since Logan. Hold that thought….two serious relationships. There was Wade, her fellow reporter on the Obama campaign bus. Then there was Michael, one of her old roommate's friend, before Wade made an appearance again.

"They hardly count. You weren't serious with them," said Jess. That was one thing they had in common; their relationships did not last, at all. There was only one person after Rory that made Jess's heart skipped a beat (literally speaking and not metaphorically, a cliché, he knows) whenever he thought of her, saw her, or talked to her. She was the light of his life when he needed a spark. He would've settled down with Elizabeth, getting down on one knee and popping the question, the whole she-bang. Problem was he wasn't the one for her. She left him because she wouldn't tie him down when she herself wasn't sure what she wanted. Jess was sure there was a Taylor Swift song somewhere in there, the whole 'love is the most fucked up thing ever.'

"I almost married Wade!" Rory hadn't thought of him in a long while. Her sweet Wade, the only situation that made her feel like she became exactly like her mother.

"The operative word is 'almost,'" said Jess, daring Rory to continue this argument.

"It was still pretty close, not Max and Mom close, but close enough." It almost became that close, but don't tell Jess that. Rory could still see the heartbreak she was inflicting when she sat Wade down the week before the wedding. It wasn't really a wedding, actually. It was an impromptu decision to get hitch in Atlantic City before their anniversary. No muss, no fuss sort of thing. She didn't even tell her mother, which should be the first sign of something not right with the relationship.

"So?" asked Jess, still waiting on her answer about her current relationship status, bringing the girl in question out of her little memory trip down the past.

Rory sighed. "Single," she finally admitted. There wasn't nothing wrong with being single, but at this point in life, she thought there would be more.

Jess grinned. "Therefore, no boyfriend, no romantic tension."

Rory rolled her eyes, refusing to believe in his theory. She never did believed in his theories anyways. "And James Dean is telling me how to live my personal life."

"Well, at least we aren't Hepburn and Tracy," countered Jess.

"Or Taylor and Burton."

"Leigh and Olivier."

Rory laughed, her voice echoing a bit in the massive room. "Oh, god, I hope not." She took a look around, noting again the beauty of the bookstore they were standing in. She suddenly realized that Jess was the perfect person to explore this place with, a fellow bibliophile, a friend close to her heart. "This place is amazing. Have you seen upstairs yet?"

Jess shook his head. "No. Why don't we look around together?"

Rory nodded and followed him away from the stage and to the stairs. She thought that if this was a meet cute scenario right out of the movies there would be a pop song playing as the scene ended. Rory wondered what song would encompassed her's and Jess's complicated and out of left field relationship.

She would totally buy a copy of the song and listen to it on repeat.

xXxXx

They were at the foot of the stairs, about to walk up and explore more of what the store had to offer when Jess said, "This place makes me feel like getting out one of my old favorites and just sit and read." It may not be Washington Square Park, but this store did emit the same aura, the feeling of safeness and comfort, something that was lacking in his youth. It was a place you felt safe in as you allow yourself to be immersed in reading tales of Holden Caulfield, Francie Nolan or Jurgis Rudkus, pulling yourself into their stories as if they were your own. Jess once thought that Elizabeth may be his safe haven, her ability to make him feel home no matter where they were, but their stars just didn't line up. Wasn't that always the fucking case for him? He still had her number saved, not wanting to delete the last link he had to her. Pathetic, he knows.

"I know what you mean. I feel like pulling out my copy of the _Phantom Tollbooth_ and just escape," replied Rory. She spun around a bit, taking in the room and its atmosphere, feeling like a kid in a candy store. When she finally stilled herself, she found Jess leaning against the railing, arms crossed and his lips in a smirk.

"You done?" he teased.

Rory took a step toward him and playful hit him on the shoulders. "Mean, but yes."

"Good, because you got to see this." Jess took her hand and lead her up the stairs. One of the first thing Rory saw was a bookshelf, but this one wasn't like the others. This one was titled to the side and had literal books flying off from it, trying to escape the confinement and spreading its wings. This particular bookshelf made itself its home behind a weathered dark brown desk and a leathered black chair. The kicker was that the typewriter that was suppose to be on the desk was actually hanging from the ceiling, giving life to the expression 'words flying off the page,' the manuscript twirling and spinning off away from machine and into the air. The artwork from this piece made Rory thought for a second that sorcery was real.

"So many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible," said Jess, quoting Norton Juster, filling the the comfortable silence between them. One of their first conversation they had, not the early days but from their reconciliation years later, after the whole Logan fiasco, were about the _Phantom Tollbooth_. It was a topic of endless possibilities, one that get Rory smiling no matter what mood she was in. She remembered once during a cold, long night, not long after her second breakup with Wade, she decided to call Jess up. An innocent conversation between friends and all they talked about was the genius of a simple children book.

(She wondered why they stopped talking, letting two years slip by without even a simple 'hello.')

"Time is a gift, given to you, given to give you the time you need, the time you need to have the time of your life," replied Rory. This was her favorite quote from the _Phantom Tollbooth_. Every time she thought of it or said it, the quote reminded her how short her life was and how her life was inconsequential to the grand scheme of things, but, yet,….it was the inconsequential nature of human life in comparison to the universe that made life extraordinary. Usually by the time she come to this realization, her head hurt from the possible philosophical implications and she remind herself that she was not the next Kant.

"You can swim all day in the Sea of Knowledge and not get wet."

"Right, you are, Dodger," said Rory, before she shook her head. "Oh, god, we are reverting back to our old habits." She laughed, doubling over a bit, letting her hair fall and covering her face.

Jess grinned in response. "I'm just having nice conversation with a person who is also indebted to popular culture as I am." And he saw nothing wrong with that. He swears.

"But we also make it a thing. The whole 'who knows more than the other person' thing," said Rory. She had calmed herself from her little outburst, but just barely. Her composure still showed signs of breaking, as seen through the little shakes from her shoulders and her barely concealed smile, her teeth showing as the corners of her mouth seemed to reach her eyes.

"Or you can see it as facilitating the conversation into interesting directions," justified Jess.

"Or just plain showing off."

Jess shrugged his shoulders. "What do you think makes certain children books a classic?"

"And now you are just changing the topic." Rory paused as she gave Jess's question a thought. "That's an opened ended question, Jess," teased Rory, "But I'll say the humanity of the story. The authors do use simple morality, but the inclusion of realism, the consequences the characters suffered through in order to learn from their mistakes, that what makes the story memorable to me. They are more alive. They feel real. I mean, hey, it worked for _Harry Potter_."

"As long as you don't use _Twilight _as an example," said Jess. He began to walk away from the artwork and into the hallway.

Rory took one last look at the flying books before she followed him, their footsteps creating a comfortable rhythm. "There's not enough memorable quotes from _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer didn't have the balls to create a character in the likes of Albus Dumbledore."

"Or Hermione Granger, an actual well-read, well-rounded, intelligent female protagonist," countered Jess.

"Or Severus Snape, a complex character struggling with his purpose and morality. The only time Meyer ever got deep was when Edward and Bella broke the bed."

"My my my, Rory Gilmore, did you just make a dirty joke?"

Rory shook her head as she walked ahead of him. "That what you got out of my reply?"

Jess stopped for a bit as he stared at the girl in front of him. Rory continued to walk ahead of him, not waiting to hear his reply. He looked around himself for a bit, his thoughts going a mile a second, before he smiled and jogged ahead to catch up with her. "I assumed your mother bought the _Twilight _books so she can read it ironically and you can't help but read a shiny new book on the table."

"You know me too well. Though if Edward and Bella want 'it's complicated' as their relationship status, they should take some notes from Heathcliff and Catherine," said Rory, before stopping at a bookshelf, an actual one this time with actual books for sale.

Jess stopped next to her, a foot or two too close or too far, depending on perspective. "I think everyone should take notes from 19th century English gothic literature."

Rory ran her fingers on the spines of the books before her, feeling each distinct texture as she tried to decide which to pick up and look through. "Tired of being part of the Lost Generation?" she asked.

"I'm sure Gertrude Stein will take my leave of absence…and say I have good taste."

xXxXx

Rory was currently testing her height. Well, not really. She was just trying to touch the ceiling, stretching her arms as far as they reach and achieving her goal. It wasn't that much of a stretch actually, since she was sort of cheating, standing off center and away from the keystone.

Jess and Rory were currently standing inside an arch made out of books. You heard that right. They were standing in an arch, well half an arch anyway, made entirely out of pages glued together between covers. What was so special about this particular arch, in this particular bookstore, in a loving city with the word 'angels' in its nickname, was that, like the register table, this was name out of books. Literally.

In another time, and in another place, this may be considered romantic, a scene screaming for the two leading actors to kiss.

For Jess, however, this was an opportunity to tease the leading girl.

"Wait," said Jess, interrupting their conversation about the current political landscape as he spied something in Rory's opened handbag. She was reaching for the stars, both her hands up over her head, leaving the item that caught Jess's eye right out in the open. "You have an e-reader."He grabbed the device before Rory had a chance to react. "I didn't peg you for jumping on the bandwagon."

"Give that back," said Rory, shaking her head, laughing a bit. "It's not what you think. Unlike you, I don't like to write notes in the margin and I travel a lot, and my suitcase is small. This holds all my favorite books I want to have with me at all times so when I have the urge at any given time, I'm able to pull this out and read the section of a book I'm thinking about or look for a quote I'm having trouble to remember, or just to pass the time." What she didn't tell Jess was that it was Wade who gave this to her, his way of showing his understanding for her love of literature, how a simple string of words can leave an impact on the rest of your life. He was so caring and so loving that she couldn't really explained to her mother why their relationship didn't work out. She really did loved him. Truly.

It didn't escaped Jess's notice on how Rory caressed the e-reader before carefully putting it back in her bag.

"So, Jane Austin then."

"_Pride and Prejudice_ is a work of art. I'm not alone on that one. You should get on _that _bandwagon," replied Rory, a bit defensively.

Jess shrugged. "I bring an extra bag just for books. My bag always get heavier when I head back home, so I learned my lesson after my first book tour. It didn't helped that I tend to visit independent bookstores every chance I get." He made a mistake in letting Chris into his apartment once. Let's just say that if Jess were to not show up for work, his co-workers would call the cops saying that he had died in an avalanche of books, his bookcases failing once and for all for carrying so much weight passed acceptable regulations.

"I can see that." Rory nodded her head a bit to the several novels that Jess was currently carrying. She made a comment earlier about needing an extra set of hands to carry all the stuff they pulled off the shelves, and that was eight books ago. At this rate, they were buying an entire section of the store.

Rory bent over to pick up the books she placed on the floor when she had her Kerri Strug moment. She pressed a button on her phone that was resting on top of the pile, noted the time, and made a mental note to call her editor when she get back to her hotel.

"What are you reading right now?" asked Jess, his go to question every time they got together. He watched as she struggled for a bit to gather the books in her arm, but he made no move to help her. Once, back when they were dating, he offered to carry some of her books she carefully picked out during the annual Stars Hollow book sale. Rory made a passing comment how she should be able to hold her own stack, showing that she deserve to buy them and treasure them. Mostly, Lorelai instilled the rule in her daughter after realizing her daughter's room is getting smaller and smaller by the minute. This was one way she had control over the matter, and Rory never moved away from the golden rule, even after she moved out and had an apartment of her own and no mother bugging her for the lack of space to eat, live, and sleep. Jess found Rory's continued observant of the rule enduring and sweet.

"_Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage._"

Jess nodded, noticing the way the lights danced in her eyes when she answered his question. "Haruki Murakami. I approve."

"You?" asked Rory, curious to hear his answer. She could always tell if he liked the book he was reading by the way his mouth twitches.

"_The Bone Clocks._"

"David Mitchell," stated Rory, already seeing the approval before he even responded.

"A true literary genius of this time period," replied Jess. He gestured with his shoulders, lifting his right side and angling it to a specific direction.

Rory took a look at where he gestured and began to walk in that direction. "According to you."

"According to any sane human being."

Rory laughed. "So you have a definite scale in which to determine the mental status of every human being?"

Jess hitched the books he was holding higher against his chest, already regretting the amount he had and the laws of gravity. "Yes. It's foolproof. They also need to name their favorite Beatles song. Based on their choice, you can tell if the person is a follower, an audiophile, has good taste, or knows nothing about the band but the big hits."

"And not by their favorite Beatles?" asked Rory, genuinely interested in Jess's method of measuring a person based on such an absurd question and answer assessment.

Jess shrugged. "That's subjective."

"And picking a favorite Beatles' song isn't?"

"I didn't make the system, Rory. It just is," said Jess. You don't make the system. The system must come naturally, or else it was no good.

"You made the test right on the spot!" accused Rory. It's not like you can pick _one_ favorite song. The Beatles were the Beatles for goodness sake.

"It's your word against mine."

"So, George?"

Jess was taken back a bit. He only mentioned it once, many years ago, back when they were at the gazebo in the town square watching the rain fall. Back when all their conversations meshed together that he couldn't remember who said what and when, but yet somehow remembered specifics conversational topics at random times and at random places. Rory had a habit in popping up in his mind, once in awhile. "George," confirmed Jess, his voice hitched just a bit.

"I'm partial to Paul," replied Rory, not noticing the hesitant in his voice or the changing of tones.

"Everyone is, and John, too."

"Not Ringo?" asked Rory, her eyebrows scrunched up together.

"It's a hipster choice, if force to choose."

Rory shook her head. "Well, I like them all together, rather than separate."

"All together now," sung Jess, wanting to see her reaction.

Rory laughed, trying to cover her mouth with one of her hands but couldn't because of the books she was carrying. "Oh, my God. What did I tell you about singing?"

"If I can save humankind from the brink of disaster with my singing, find a different way to save our species," said Jess. This was said to him one night back in Stars Hollow when Lorelai thought it would be fun to have karaoke night as a celebration of her daughter return from her first real job as a reporter on a campaign bus. He made sure to drink enough alcohol to block out the memories, but apparently it didn't stick.

"Exactly."

"Well, you're not exactly Barbra Streisand," said Jess.

"I never said I was."

xXxXx

Rory picked up a book on Ingrid Bergman. "We'll always have Paris."

"_Casablanca._ You need to give me something to work for, Rory," said Jess. They were alone in their corner of the store, already back downstairs after the grand tour upstairs. It was getting late into the day, the sunbeams lighting the store getting dimmer as the artificial lights becoming more prominent. The sounds of other patrons provided a nice background hum as the two browsed through the aisles. Rory had her hair back in a ponytail, her eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Jess was lazily flipping through the pages of a Jean Arthur biography, waiting for Rory to stump him in this little game of theirs.

"Give me a second," said Rory. She paused for a bit. "The only way you'll ever get me to follow another of your suggestions is to hold a bright object in front of my eyes and twirl it."

"_Bringing Up Baby_," said Jess instantly. He buried down the smirk that threaten to erupt on his face as he placed the biography back on the shelf.

Rory quickly retaliated. "I refuse to be a bowl in a gold of fish."

"_Shall We Dance_."

Rory playful pouted, her eyes showing mocked sadness. "How did you know that one?"

"You made me marathon Fred and Ginger films one weekend back when we were dating. All ten of them."

Rory snapped her fingers and pointed at Jess. "The week I couldn't stop humming 'Cheek to Cheek'!" She crossed her arms and leaned against the bookshelf before her. "I forgot we did that. We definitely need more Astaires and Rogers in the world."

"How about something from this side of the century, Gilmore?"

"Yes! Let me think." Rory turned in her position so that she faced the bookshelf before her. She rested her forehead against two or three books on the silent film era as she tried to come up with a quote. Rory eyed the books before her, thinking it was a bit ironic given the suggestion, trying to come up with a quote from the current era when films in late 1890s and early 1900s were silent. "Waiting for a king to apologize, one can wait a long wait."

"_The King's Speech_."

Rory sighed. "I'm never going to stomp you, am I?"

"Nope, my mind is fast and keen and drug-free and apparently I consumed way too many movies," replied Jess.

Rory pushed herself away from the bookshelf. "Well, I'm not liking this game anymore. Onto the next topic."

Agreeing, Jess asked, "What's the last movie you seen?"

"_Boyhood._" The nostalgia the film produced was so palpable that she immediately went back to Stars Hollow to visit her mom and Luke for three days. She even stopped by her grandparents' place. The film made her feel like she was missing out of the dull moments in life, the ones that were trivial, but later deemed life changing. The inconsequential scenes of the main character growing up in Texas, going to a Harry Potter book release, going through a day of school, and seeing his father from time to time when he visits, just hit a bit too close to home. Though she didn't grow up in the same time period, what she thought was brilliant was that the filmmakers actually added to the film bit by bit by filming scenes each year for twelve years, following a real boy and seeing him seamlessly grow up on film. The message was clear. It all goes back to the quote from the _Phantom Tollbooth_ and the question, what is she doing with her life? Was there something more to her life?

"Linklater. Good choice. I thought you would've said something about someone in tights," said Jess.

Rory shook her head a bit, rejecting Jess's statement as well as clearing her head. "Do not get me started on that!"

"Why, Rory, I thought you'll be keen on the multitude of superhero movies soon to be in a theater near you."

Rory laughed, the feeling of doubts that suddenly filled her from before gone in an instant. "Between Marvel and DC and the in-fighting between Disney, Sony and Fox and whoever own at least one right to one superhero name, the industry is saturating the market." She shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining."

"And why aren't you complaining?" asked Jess.

"I'm channelling my mother here, okay," said Rory. She cleared her throat and said, "Captain America is hot."

Jess laughed out loud, his laughter overpowering the chattering of patrons near by."Now that is not something I thought would come out of your mouth."

"I have changed and grown and, well, changed," said Rory, quoting Jess straight back to him.

"Touché."

xXxXx

"This was fun. We need to hang out more outside of Stars Hollow," said Jess. The sun bid its goodbye awhile ago, leaving in its wake the humid summer air clinging to any exposed body parts. The afternoon came and went, streams of people entered and exited the shop. Jess and Rory were currently by the doors saying their goodbyes, their purchases down beside them. Jess had to get up at 8 am tomorrow to start the last leg of his tour. Rory had to be at the benefit by 10 am, wanting incorporate the set-up into her story. However, both couldn't really tear themselves away from each other. There was a pull between them, a tug one feels when one was more than five feet away from the other, a strange calling of sorts. It was not because of longing or wanting. It was just something that was there. Rory chalked it up to lost time. Jess would not let himself read too much into it.

"Well, don't be a stranger. You have my phone number. Call, text. Be part of the 21st century, Ned Ludd." Rory smiled and hugged the man before her. She feels a slight squeeze and for a tiny bit she didn't want to let go. She felt saved in his arms, but like all things, there must be an end. Rory stepped away and bent down to gather her things.

"Wait. Letter writing isn't an efficient way of communication? Who will see my penmanship? The way I cross my Ts and dot my Is? They don't cross and dot themselves!" It was how he write his novels. Unlike Fitzgerald, he doesn't hang up his manuscript and painstakingly go through each word and punctuation.

Rory rolled her eyes, ignoring his jest. "Jess."

"I'll call," affirmed Jess. He will. That was a promise. This time he will not let time and distance get in the way between them.

"Or I'll call. As long as we keep in touch."

"Okay." There was a finality in the way he said that word, his promise lingering in the air between them.

Rory smiled at Jess one last time before she head out the doors. She walked a few blocks away before she felt her phone buzzed. Setting her bags aside on the bench before her, she took out her phone from her purse and checked her message.

_Well, Christiane Amanpour, I'm looking forward to your next piece on the unrest in the Middle East. See? I can follow instructions. This is a text from me to you. _

Rory tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. She glanced behind her, feeling his presence right beside her standing by as if he was a ghost ever diligently following her, before she text him her response.

_I'm still waiting on you fulfilling your promise for the Subsect continuation. Squeals are not overdone as long as they are done correctly. _

She tucked her phone away and glanced up at the moon before her. She felt a bit lighter, the weight she didn't know that was weighing down on her chest suddenly lifting from her. She couldn't see much of the stars in a city as bright as LA, but she knows that they were there, always welcoming her and never judging. She lowered her head and once again gathered her stuff. Life goes on, but the familiar will always welcome you back.


End file.
